AS I SEE it, turning over my files, the notes of conversations, the statements of various characters, it would have been still possible, at this moment, for Rollo Martins to have left Vienna safely. He had shown an unhealthy curiosity, but the disease had been checked at every point. Nobody had given anything away. The smooth wall of deception had as yet shown no real crack to his roaming fingers. When Rollo Martins left Dr Winkler’s he was in no danger. He could have gone home to bed at Sacher’s and slept with a quiet mind. He could even have visited Cooler at this stage without trouble. No one was seriously disturbed. Unfortunately for him – and there would always be periods of his life when he bitterly regretted it – he chose to go back to Harry’s flat. He wanted to talk to the little vexed man who said he had seen the accident – or had he really not said so much? There was a moment in the dark frozen street when he was inclined to go straight to Cooler, to complete his picture of those sinister birds who sat around Harry’s body, but Rollo, being Rollo, decided to toss a coin and the coin fell for the other action, and the deaths of two men.

Perhaps the little man – who bore the name of Koch – had drunk a glass too much of wine, perhaps he had simply spent a good day at the office, but this time, when Rollo Martins rang his bell, he was friendly and quite ready to talk. He had just finished dinner and had crumbs on his moustache. ‘Ah, I remember you. You are Herr Lime’s friend.’

He welcomed Martins in with great cordiality and introduced him to a mountainous wife whom he obviously kept under very strict control. ‘Ah, in the old days, I would have offered you a cup of coffee, but now –’

Martins passed round his cigarette case and the atmosphere of cordiality deepened. ‘When you came yesterday I was a little abrupt,’ Herr Koch said, ‘but I had a touch of migraine and my wife was out, so I had to answer the door myself.’

‘Did you tell me that you had actually seen the accident?’

Herr Koch exchanged glances with his wife. ‘The inquest is over, Ilse. There is no harm. You can trust my judgement. The gentleman is a friend. Yes, I saw the accident, but you are the only one who knows. When I say that I saw it, perhaps I should say that I heard it. I heard the brakes put on and the sound of the skid, and I got to the window in time to see them carry the body to the house.’

‘But didn’t you give evidence?’

‘It is better not to be mixed up in such things. My office cannot spare me. We are short of staff, and of course I did not actually see –’